


the snowball effect

by fshep



Category: Persona 4
Genre: M/M, Pining, Practice Kissing, Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8819182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fshep/pseuds/fshep
Summary: It starts with a suggestion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to my asshole roommate who said souyo was perfect for the practice kissing trope while knowing fully well i couldn't leave it alone unless i wrote fic about it.
> 
> i promise i have something more substantial planned, but let me pump out some oneshots while i get used to these guys.

The best part about having a best friend, Yu thinks, is that anything goes.

He should’ve been prepared for that ideology to be challenged. Yosuke’s the guy that’d swung swords around Junes like it's something that _wouldn't_ get them arrested. He can be a little extreme. He also has a severe lack of consideration, which might be Yosuke’s greatest flaw, in Yu’s opinion.

Yosuke worries he’s dull, clingy, pathetic, annoying… so severely that it’d manifested into a Shadow last Spring. Yu finds those fears realistic, if untrue; if he were Yosuke, he’d be more concerned about his malfunctioning brain-to-mouth filter, or the tendency to act before thinking. Instead, play out a situation internally before making a decision. It’s a habit that’s saved Yu a lot of trouble growing up.

“So we’ve _both_ never kissed a girl? That settles it, then. We should practice with each other.”

 _Trouble_.

Yu swears he feels himself dissociating as he stares at Yosuke. The prolonged silence makes Yosuke tense, his hands fidgeting as he adjusts his position on the couch.

“Think about it! It makes total sense!” _Just who are you convincing?_ “Wouldn’t you rather impress your new girlfriend with sublime smooching skills, over—humiliating yourself because you don’t know what goes where?”

“It’s kissing,” says Yu, “not rocket science. It’s pretty obvious _what goes where_.”

Not to mention—Yu had told Yosuke he’d never kissed a girl, and he didn’t lie. The boy he’d seen during his first year of high school, however, would have a few things to say about that. They’d been each other’s experimental phase (not quite _friends_ , because Yu hadn’t allowed himself the luxury when he knew he’d be ripped away from his city acquaintances before long) and, ultimately, reached two very different conclusions in the end. 

He looks at Yosuke’s mouth.

“Shut _up_ , I know! I just—c’mon, partner. It’ll be a miracle in itself that I actually manage to _get_ a girl; I just want to make sure I don’t scare her off right away.”

“If she turns you away because your first kiss is a little sloppy, she’s not worth it.”

Yu leans his head against his palm and, from his vantage point at the desk, watches Yosuke deconstruct his argument and rebuild it into something more efficient: begging.

“ _Please_ , Yu. You’re the only one I can trust with something like this.”

Bastard.

Yu’s hand drops gently to the desk as he straightens, appraising Yosuke’s sincerity. 

“I’m a guy,” he reminds him.

“Duh.” An anxious laugh bubbles out of his throat. “Kinda hard to forget. But it’s not gay if it doesn’t mean anything, y’know? And it’s just practice for the real thing.” He takes a deep breath. “So? What do you say?”

He’d already given in by the time Yosuke started pleading. It’s a bad idea. Yu doesn’t want to experience what it’s like to kiss somebody he has feelings for only to have it dismissed the moment they pull apart.

… But he can’t resist the temptation to try it. It’s not like he’d ever get the chance under normal circumstances.

“Alright,” he sighs more than says. He ignores the way Yosuke brightens lest he misread it as something it’s not. He’ll have to stay clinically detached to _all_ of it, he realizes, if he’s going to make it out of this alive.

He pushes himself out of the chair and relocates to the couch, close enough to Yosuke that their legs brush. Yosuke squirms, ears and neck already flushed with nerves. His lips twist into an open-mouthed smile like he’s trying to be reassuring, but Yosuke’s always been the type to laugh even when he doesn’t mean to, when his emotions are running haywire and his only outlet is to expel them with laughter. It’s horribly inappropriate but somehow endearing, just like all of Yosuke’s habits, but that could very well just be Yu’s severe bias talking.

It figures that despite this being Yosuke’s idea, he doesn’t move a muscle to initiate. Yu, in his harmless, idle fantasies, was frequently the recipient. But there were instances in which he’d imagine taking Yosuke’s face in hand, confident and sure, and Yosuke’s eyes would widen but his lips would part in anticipation, like an instinct—and Yu would feel the noise of surprise against his mouth.

Reality surpasses it by a mile.

The sound Yosuke makes is more of a _whimper_ than anything else, which Yu immediately catalogues for later. His fingers clutch at the front of Yu’s shirt like he needs to steady himself.  For one horrifying moment Yu fears the faint pressure against his torso means that Yosuke is pushing him away, but he’s really pulling him closer—and Yu doesn’t need further urging. 

It’s a little one-sided with Yu at the reins, so despite being half-suspended over Yosuke’s body, he lifts up just enough to create distance between their mouths. “Your turn.”

“H-Ha…” He'd slipped down enough that he has to prop himself up on his elbows. “Right.”

Yu makes it easy on him by tilting his head in advance, leaning back in, but it’s ultimately Yosuke who reestablishes contact. He lifts one hand, obviously hesitant, and slides it up Yu’s back to settle somewhere in the middle, palm warm. His initial panic has dissolved into curiosity; he kisses Yu’s upper lip, and then the bottom, tilting his head to the other side as if assessing which combination is most satisfactory.

He’s surprisingly compliant—and as the thought crosses his mind, Yosuke begins to fuss.

Removing his hand, he pulls away with an accusatory look. “Dude, you’re like—on top of me.”

Yu quirks a brow. “You leaned back on your own. I followed.”

Yosuke visibly struggles with the notion that he’d been so instinctively submissive. “Well, get up. I want to try it in a different position.” He sits up, which forces Yu to do the same.

“My lap?”

“No!” Yosuke sputters, which is exactly the reaction Yu had hoped to prod from him. He makes it so easy; his lips twitch in response. “Asshole. Lay down.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ugh. Just—” And he _shoves_ Yu onto his back, unexpectedly. Yu feels a little thrill he doesn’t have time to process, because Yosuke’s climbing on top of him and—well, he ends up in Yu’s lap, which is ironic, but he has to admit there’s definitely a different dynamic when Yu’s spread out beneath Yosuke. Especially when he, once again, takes the initiative.

He can’t just leave his hands where they are, because that’d be criminal, but he doesn’t want to spook Yosuke either. They settle for Yosuke’s sides, which he considers to be a safe zone—or, at the very least, safer than his ass, as much as he’d like to use it for purchase to drag him closer.

Yosuke’s inexperience is obvious; he’s clumsy, overeager, and forgets that he can use his nose for breathing, too. But it’s pleasant; his lips are soft despite the dry winter air and Yu can taste a very faint trace of mint, like he’d brushed his teeth prior to coming over with the very intention of doing this.

But, more than anything, it’s because it’s _Yosuke_ that he feels so warm, so content. There’s a spark that hadn’t been there during his previous experimentation that can only be attributed to the fact that Yu doesn’t just want to _kiss_ Yosuke, he wants to hold him like he’d done by the river, hold hands at the movie theater under the cover of darkness…

He relocates his grip to Yosuke’s face, gently dislodging his lips from Yu’s. He looks dazed, which is cute, but also more than Yu can handle right now. He feels vulnerable, like Yosuke had managed to strip away his defenses within a few minutes of making out. It’s ridiculous and Yu needs space to compose himself before he does— _says_ —something he’ll regret.

“Think you got the hang of it?”

“I mean,” Yosuke starts, his cheeks a messy red, “it’s a good start. But that was pretty chaste, wasn’t it? What happens when I want to slip some tongue?”

Yu makes a mental note to write his will tonight after Yosuke leaves.

“Boys,” calls Dojima, and Yosuke startles so badly that his legs catch between Yu’s in his haste to get off of him. He crashes to the floor, groaning softly, and Yu can only pray that his uncle hadn’t noticed. “I ordered dinner from Aiya. Come and eat while it’s still hot.”

Heart racing in his throat, he croaks back, “Alright. Thanks.”

He stands, glancing at Yosuke and reaching out his hands for him to grasp. He pulls him to his feet and assumes Yosuke doesn’t immediately release him because he’s still feeling unsteady. But when he starts to turn toward the door, Yosuke tugs at him until their eyes meet.

“Next time?” he asks, lilted with hope.

“Sure,” he promises, because what’s life without a little risk?

 

* * *

 

Altogether, not much changes. It’s a relief and a frustration to see that Yosuke seems unaffected, but also _uncharacteristic_ because Yu can’t remember an instance Yosuke hadn’t panicked over anything even remotely homoerotic. 

 _It’s not gay if it doesn’t mean anything_.

Right.

Still, hanging out with Yosuke is fun. It always has been. There’s an undercurrent of tension between them, like when he catches Yosuke staring at his mouth, but that evaporates when _next time_ turns into _this time_ and they’re at it again.

Yosuke becomes increasingly obvious. He glances at Yu every quarter of a minute, legs bouncing at a restless pace. This is how Yu knows Yosuke wants to _practice_ but he’s too antsy to find the right words.

He overanalyzes to the point of cranial distress, so Yu doesn’t let him stew for too long. He asks, quite simply, “Do you want to try kissing again? I think we can do better this time.”

And Yosuke practically trips over himself on the way to Yu’s lap. But his lips are warm and his hands are earnest, like he really is learning what other people _(Yu)_ like.

Yu could spend a solid _hour_ lazily moving his mouth against Yosuke’s, subjecting himself to Yosuke's curious tongue, but he also has enough foresight to recognize overkill, and that'd be it. It'd be as bad as endorsing this in the first place. But as much as his friends like to praise him for being resilient, diligent, strong…

He’s not. Not when it comes to Yosuke.

All he can do is end today’s session after hearing the fifth, soft hum in approval from Yosuke—and, predictably, it melts into a whine of confusion when Yu pulls away.

"Already?”

Yu doesn’t say that they’ve been at it for twenty minutes.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so—check this out.” 

Yu looks up from one of Yosuke’s magazines. He’d been reading an article about how to please your lover, written with an unfortunate surplus of sultry detail. He wonders if Yosuke actually studies this stuff. _Brush your thumb along the column of her neck, over and over, to drive her crazy!_

Well, they’re not wrong. Yosuke saps the life out of him with that trick.

“What is it?” he asks, lifting himself off of the floor and moving to Yosuke’s computer.

 _Bro-Jobs Between Straight Men Are More Common Than You’d Think_ , in big, bold letters, sit above formatted paragraphs. Another article. He considers giving Yosuke a bit of grief for his reliance on clickbait, because he’s so susceptible to teasing—but the title itself leaves him at a loss for words.

“It’s about straight guys who suck each other off,” Yosuke explains, helpfully. Yu stares at him. “Apparently it’s a pretty common phenomenon.”

He sounds so pleased, so _relieved_ , that Yu doesn’t derail him. Playing along, he prompts, “Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s like…” He scrolls down the page, eyes flickering. “If a dude can watch another dude jack off, or even help him out,” he paraphrases, “he can gauge how turned on he is by it. If they count those experiences as unimportant to their self-identification, then there’s no reason to get hung up about doing it.”

Yu closes his eyes and, very slowly, takes a breath. “Are you asking for a blowjob, Yosuke?”

“Actually, I was thinking… I’d try giving _you_ one. If you’re cool with that, anyway. I mean, you see the article; it’s not a big deal.”

And that…

Is _not_ what he’d expected to hear. He gazes openly at Yosuke, not having registered anything after the admission that he’d like to _go down on Yu_. Fairly certain that his heart had just skipped a dozen beats, he swallows past a dry throat and parts his lips.

Yosuke interrupts him, tossing a hand to the side as he speaks. “Although I think it’d only be fair if you gave me one too.” He laughs sheepishly.

“Fair,” he echoes. “Alright. You have a deal.”

“Really?” Yosuke swivels the chair around and slaps Yu’s arm. “Hell, yeah! That’s why you’re the best, partner. Go ahead and get comfortable on my bed, alright?”

So they’re doing this _now_. That’s probably a good thing. He’d come to his senses if he had any longer to think, and he really doesn’t want that to happen. Why _wouldn’t_ he choose to experience a reality in which Yosuke’s willing to wrap his lips around Yu’s dick?

First, though, he’s touching him with his hand— _spitting into his palm—_ and grinning up at him like he’s proud of himself. That’s great, Yosuke. Good for you.

“You’re pretty big,” he comments in a conversational lilt. It’s not fair, Yu thinks, that Yosuke has decided to learn how to keep his cool while Yu rapidly loses the grasp on his own. “I hope you don’t mind if I gag or something. Personally, I always found the idea of it to be a little hot, haha.” He _winks_ , lowers his head, and Yu wonders if this is what they mean when they say you _can_ havetoo much of a good thing _._

 

* * *

 

The next day, Yu stares blankly at his desk, deaf to the surrounding chatter of his classmates. Yukiko and Chie discuss something in hushed whispers; in any other circumstance Yu would feel compelled to tune into their conspiratorial drabble, but for the past twelve hours he’s thought of nothing but the image of Yosuke’s head between his thighs, so he’s understandably occupied.

Speak of the devil. Yosuke saunters in, face alight with a joy that’s completely unsuited to morning at school.

“Yo!” he greets the group at large, sliding into his seat behind Yu. “What’s up?”

Yu glances at Yukiko and Chie, who regard Yosuke with critical eyes.

“What’s up with you?” demands Chie, blunt as ever. “Why are you in such a good mood?” In a mutter, as if the consideration is an afterthought, she adds, “Do I even _want_ to know?”

“Well, excuse _me_. I didn’t realize that being happy was such a crime.” Yosuke snorts.

Yu continues to face forward, eyes stinging with exhaustion. He registers the sound of Yosuke flipping open his notebook as if he’s actually going to take notes. It’s a decent front, but they all know better.

“It’s not,” says Chie. In his peripheral, Yu can see her swinging her legs as she sits. “It’s just _weird_ when you’re not half-asleep or snapping at anything that moves.”

“You say that like you aren’t the same way.”

Tuning out their bickering, Yu presses his face into his palm and releases a sigh. _Get yourself together. If Yosuke can manage this kind of arrangement without having a meltdown, so can you_.

Yukiko, bless her heart, leans over. “Are you alright, Yu-kun? You look exhausted.”

“Yeah,” he exhales, glancing her way to show sincerity. “Just had a long night.”

She nods in sympathy and leaves it at that. He’s grateful for her tact.

When Kashiwagi struts into the room and begins her lecture (on the ethics of prostitution, which Yu is confident has nothing to do with their coursework), it occurs to him that Yosuke hadn’t directly acknowledged him. _Maybe he’s freaking out after all_.

Just then, as Kashiwagi turns to scrawl aggressively on the chalkboard, Yosuke leans forward and whispers something in Yu’s ear. He doesn’t hear the words so much as he _feels_ them without comprehending, his shoulders twitching at the sensation of Yosuke’s breath against his neck.

Yosuke plops back down in his seat and hooks his feet around Yu’s ankle from behind. And leaves them there.

 _For the duration of class_.

Yu feels marginally better when lunch rolls around, if only because his bento had been lovingly crafted by Nanako. He’s admiring a heart-shaped carrot when Yosuke’s hand lands on his leg.

He freezes. Yosuke continues to relay his story—something about this ridiculous customer at Junes who must’ve been passing through Inaba, because he’d never seen him before—while Yu blinks at the long fingers that curve possessively over his thigh. His palm is hot, which must be why Yu feels like he’s about to break into sweat.

“Um,” says Chie, and Yu notices that both of the girls’ eyes are locked on to Yosuke’s hand.

Whether it’s by miracle or Yosuke’s own deliberation, he doesn’t stop talking, doesn’t address the blatant abnormality.

Chie stands abruptly. “Oh, crap,” she says, a little stiff, “I think I dropped my ID in the bathroom. Come with me, Yukiko!”

“But I haven’t—oh!” She nods. They skitter across the rooftop and past the door in an instant.

“Wonder what that was about. Think they’re gonna spend the rest of the lunch period making out?” _Finally_ , he removes his hand and settles it behind Yu instead, which brackets his body in a way that’s almost as equally possessive.

“In your dreams, maybe.”

“C’mon, would you _really_ be shocked to find out that they were each other’s first kiss?”

“No,” says Yu, but that’s because he’s seen the way that they look at each other. Actually, he’d be more surprised if they _haven’t_ kissed. But that’s not his business unless Chie and Yukiko decide that it is, so he redirects the focus back to Yosuke. “We were each other’s first kiss.”

He expects Yosuke to deny it; it doesn’t count with no intent, after all. Instead, he says, "Yeah. Which proves my theory that best friends are twice as likely to kiss. Notably: the girls.”

Yu turns to give him a withering look and is surprised to find Yosuke’s face so close to his own. They’ve never kissed at school or, hell, anywhere even marginally public. The risk is too great, especially for Yosuke who cares more for his reputation than Yu ever will.

So Yu’s convinced he’s dreaming when Yosuke leans in and presses their lips together. He wracks his brain for the reasoning behind today’s clinginess. It has to be the mutual blowjobs. Maybe Yosuke thinks, hell, we’ve had each other’s dicks in our mouths, so what’s a little affection between men?

But then he pulls away to say, “So that’s what it’s like.” When Yu tilts his head, he explains, “Kissing after lunch. I thought it might be kinda gross because we just ate, but it’s really not that bad.”

He’d been conducting another experiment, then, filing away the information for when he’s got a girlfriend, not Yu, and it’s _her_ he’s kissing.

Appetite lost, he offers the rest of his food to Yosuke and smiles weakly at his enthusiastic acceptance.

 

* * *

 

It’s not uncommon for Yu to show up at Yosuke’s and, while they’re still hidden from view in the genkan, be welcomed with a kiss. It’d always felt like a prelude, or the 30-second trailer for the main feature, scheduled to be played in ten minutes in the privacy of Yosuke’s bedroom—

It set the tone. Sometimes Yosuke would stick his hands in Yu’s coat and wrap them around his waist; in other circumstances, when he was feeling particularly needy for Yu’s attention after a day scheduled with people that _weren’t_ Yosuke, he’d grab the back of Yu’s neck and hold him in place while he kisses him breathless.

Considering that it’s a school night, Yu can’t stay for long. He has to make it back in time to start dinner and eat with Nanako, but Hanamura-san insists he try the fish that her son refuses to eat. It’s delicious, and he tells her so; Teddie suddenly becomes invested in the idea that he has to try some, too, even though he’s fed by Yosuke’s mom on a nightly basis. He belts praise that outshines Yu’s but Hanamura-san grins nonetheless and wraps up a few pastries to go.

Her mothering is completely alien to Yu. He nearly strains himself attempting to think of a time in which his own mom packed him a snack.

“C’mon, you’re spoiling him,” Yosuke complains.

"Jealous?" Yu teases.

“Nah, it’s more like I’m still trying to piece together how you manage to win the heart of anyone you spend more than five seconds with.”

 _Not anyone_ , Yu thinks.

“Sensei has something called _charm_ , Yosuke! Don’t feel bad that you were born without it. Having friends like us means you’ll get a nice a learning curve!”

“Yeah, right! As if _you_ know anything about charm, you stupid—!”

“Yosuke,” Yu and Hanamura-san intercept in matching tones. Yosuke looks at them with such picturesque befuddlement that they laugh. A little shell-shocked, he slides onto the stool by the island and wordlessly observes Yu’s interactions with his mother until Yu has to leave.

He walks him back to the genkan.

“My mom really likes you, you know. She says stuff like—out of all the people I could’ve become close with, she’s glad it ended up being someone like you. And that, I don’t know, you’re a good influence on me,” he adds with a mutter.

Yu slips on his shoes, lips forming small smile. “Am I?”

“I’m not answering that.” He shoves Yu toward the door and reaches past him to slide it open. “You just had your ego boosted _so_ bad.”

“That’s alright,” says Yu. “I already know you agree with her.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Yu huffs out a laugh, lifting up a hand. “Goodnight. See you tomorrow.”

And then, like it’s something they _do_ , Yosuke leans over to peck his lips. “Yeah, see ya.”

For the first time since that evening in Yu’s room, where it all began, Yosuke looks visibly shaken, like he’d surprised _himself_. The color drains from his face and his mouth hangs open in preparation for sputtered excuses. Yu will wait as long as it takes for an explanation, because he can’t think of anything other than _I just wanted to see what a goodnight kiss felt like, y’know, the kind given after you stop by after school just because you can, and make my mom laugh like you’re her second son._  

Because that sounds—like something it probably isn’t, which is why he doesn’t expect to hear it. Yosuke closes the door on him.

As he walks home, snow falls slowly and gently. Typical of the countryside, the roads are silent, leaving Yu only with his thoughts.

It’s one thing to establish _sessions_ , to insists that they’re doing something for the sake of bettering a future interaction with some hypothetical girl. It’s altogether different to act like a real couple; after too long, Yu might begin to believe that it’s true.

He pulls out his phone and flips it open. To Yosuke, he texts, _we need to talk._

 _yeah,_ replies Yosuke. It’s just one word, but it looks reluctant. Guilty.

_tomorrow after school @ samegawa?_

_k._

 

* * *

 

Despite the snow, he sits on the ground, facing the floodplain as he mentally maps out how to preserve his friendship with Yosuke. He doesn’t notice his arrival until he plops down next to Yu with a massive sigh.

“Here, I’ll—make it easy for you. We can stop. You don’t have to keep going along with it for my sake, I... I get that it’s gotten pretty weird.”

He could get off the hook and let him think that’s why they’re having this conversation. Things would go back to normal, Yosuke none the wiser to Yu’s feelings.

But he’s done enough lying.

_And what’s life without risk?_

“That’s not it,” he sighs, snow crunching beneath his gloves as his fingers curl. “The kissing— _all_ of it—I don’t want it to stop.”

“Oh,” says Yosuke, relief coloring his tone. “Then—”

“ _Ever_.” He feels his best friend’s eyes burning into him. “Do you get it? I have feelings for you.”

Silence.

“You mean—you actually _like_ me?” And then, like his brain has caught up with his mouth, he adds, “Why? You… you’re the only one who’s met the real me. That’s a deterrent if I’ve ever seen one.” He sounds bitter.

He hadn’t anticipated him bringing up something that happened nearly a year ago. “Your shadow? Yosuke, that’s just a part of you. And ever since you’ve faced that side of yourself, you’ve become a better person. You’re smart. Reliable. Passionate. I couldn’t do this without you. I grow stronger _because you’re with me_.”

Yosuke tries, and miserably fails, to conceal his unbridled delight. “A-And… being a dude? That never bothered you?”

He shrugs. “Gender makes no difference to me when it comes to love.”

“L-Love,” Yosuke squeaks. “Right. Shit. Just—give me a second to process this.”

“And you’re not the first,” he finally confesses. “Guy, I mean. For a few years, I’ve known that I…”

 _Like men_. Maybe one day he’ll feel confident saying it aloud.

“What?” Yosuke yells, his voice cracking. “You’re telling me that, this whole time, you were completely chill with the fact that you were messing around with another dude on a regular basis?”

Yu turns to face him, cheeks heating up in defense. “Why are you saying that like it’s an accusation? You kept your composure better than I did.”

“Because! I…” He deflates again, looking at his knees. “It was like… method acting. I wanted so badly to believe I didn’t swing that way, so I managed to convince myself it didn’t mean anything. And then it became too hard to ignore when I started doing stuff like touching you at school and giving you goodnight kisses.” He scoffs at himself. “There’s really no excuse for any of that.”

Yu’s heart _hurts_ with how quickly it accelerates. He studies Yosuke’s expression and presses their shoulders together. “There doesn’t have to be.” He keeps his voice low and composed, hoping to be the kind of reassurance that Yosuke seeks. “We can do all of that without pretending it’s not because we like it.”

He feels Yosuke’s breath hitch. “Y-Yeah?”

He nods.

“Okay. … Crap, I’m so…” He covers his face with his hands. “I’m scared, partner. But I… I’m really happy.”

Yu reaches for him, lightly grasping a wrist and pulling it away from Yosuke’s face. Yosuke peeks at him from beneath the other.

“Me, too.”

Out of every kiss they’ve shared, this one is the best.


End file.
